


Renaissance

by transmarkcohen



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2020-05-19 15:28:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19359727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transmarkcohen/pseuds/transmarkcohen
Summary: 1920s RENT AU. Basically RENT...in the 20s.





	1. Valentine van Hart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maurquez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maurquez/gifts).



> First of all, I have to say a big thanks to my friend maurquez. She supported this idea from the beginning and suggested a lot of the character work and storylines. Some things in this are taken directly from her. I absolutely have to acknowledge her as a principal creator on this. Thank you maurquez!!

**_1923_ **

**_Set of Cohen Films_ **

 

**** **** Mark set up the tripod, aiming at Mimi. She would open the movie, acting as the disgraced theater actress Valentine van Hart who’d been displaced by the film industry.

He nodded to the pianist to start the opening music. “Take 1,” Mark called, pressing the  RECORD button on the camera. 

As Mimi became Valentine, she disappeared into the character. Valentine started off with a scowl in her fur coat, smoking her small cigarette. “I do detest these dreary days,” she began. “They are some of the  _ worst-“ _

__ __ Miss van Hart was interrupted by a knock on the door. Her scowl soured. “Come in,” she called distastefully. 

     The scene began, Mr. Pebble from Pebble and Boulder trying to convince Ms. van Hart to come to the film industry, despite being a theatre actress. Mark followed the scene with his camera as it became more heated, ending with Valentine throwing a lamp at the producer, who ran out the building, slamming the door behind him. 

“Cut,” Mark called. “Great job, Mimi, Theodore! Alright, let’s break for lunch.” The crew and cast dispersed. 

Mimi ran up to Mark. “Mr. Cohen,” she said, “thank you so much. I love the opportunity to work on an actual film.” 

Mark smiled. “You have a real talent,” he responded. “As soon as you start acting, there’s no Mimi there. It’s only Valentine-only any character you’re playing. Pure art. I’m impressed by you, Marquez.” 

Mimi smiled, so touched she was speechless. When she finally found her voice she touched Mark’s arm and said to him, “No one’s ever been proud of me like this before.” 

Mark looked back at her, also smiling. “They should have been. You’re amazing, Mimi.”    
The two walked to lunch together. 

 

Roger was entranced by the dancers on stage. He knew Collins’ was a popular speakeasy, but he didn’t know the establishment devoted itself so heavily to performance and art. It reminded him of when he’d been a tenor, enchanting the crowds with flowing notes and heavenly song. 

Roger was broken out of his trance by a waiter coming up to him and asking if he’d like a drink. He said no and waved it away, and the waiter bowed, saying something about how he wished he could’ve seen Roger on stage. Roger sighed at that. He hung out at speakeasies because he didn’t think many people were likely to recognize him in the most illegal places in the country. 

He got up from the table and headed over to the bar, where Collins was being a typical modern bartender. Roger sat down on a stool, hanging his jacket on a stool next to him. 

“Hey, Collins,” Roger called to his friend, “you got any interesting customers today?” 

Collins turned to Roger and grinned, heading over to him. “Roger, buddy!” he replied. “How’s it going? I haven’t seen you in, what, seven months?” 

“More like nine,” Roger sighed. 

Collins raised an eyebrow. 

“Wait, um, no,” Roger attempted to clarify, half-laughing. “Not what you think. No. I didn’t meet anyone. I mean I did meet a few people in the nine months...oh, forget it. Give me one of yours.” 

“Right.” Collins handed Roger a Tom Collins, his name being a drink as well. What a stroke of luck. 

Roger downed the drink quickly. “I love your bar, you know,” he said. “Your flappers are so devoted to art and performance-it reminds me of Teatro Regio.”    
Collins sighed wistfully as he looked at the stage. “Yeah?” he said to Roger. “That’s probably because a lot of them are like you-former big stars who decided they didn’t want to do that anymore, or that smaller venues would give them bigger opportunities, as well as more. But one girl did get picked up by a small filmmaker I’m friends with. Mark Cohen?” He looked at Roger, intrigued to see if the tenor knew who he was talking about. 

Roger shook his head. “Don’t know him.” He took another sip of his drink. 

Collins shrugged. “Oh, well. Mimi loved the opportunity. She wanted to get away, while the other girls-like Angel-wanted to come here.” Collins smiled at the stage again. “I love Angel.” 

Roger looked to see who Collins was talking about. He couldn’t tell. All the flappers were beautiful. 

“Alright, well,” Roger said, standing up and taking his jacket. “I’m off. Have to meet with a book publisher tomorrow morning. I think he might be a scammer, but I don’t know.” 

“You trying writing now?” Collins asked. 

“A little. See you tomorrow.” Roger walked out of the bar, hoping to find out more about this Mark and Mimi. 


	2. Sappho

**_1923_ **

**_Violets for Violets - “Speakeasy”_ **

 

Maureen was dressed scantily. She loved it. She hoped her new girlfriend Joanne didn’t mind - after all, who would complain when they got to see  _ more  _ of Maureen? 

“Can you make me another whiskey?” Maureen asked the bartender, who smiled and began to work on Maureen’s drink. 

“What’s your name?” Maureen asked, almost flirtatiously. 

“Fiona,” the redheaded mixologist responded. “You?” 

“You can call me whatever name tonight,” Maureen purred, taking Fiona’s chin in her hands. 

“Maureen!” 

Both Maureen and Fiona turned to look at Joanne, who had just come through the crowd. At least she didn’t look mad - just annoyed, at the most. 

“Hey, Pookie,” Maureen said, waving. She slid off the barstool and came up to Joanne, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend as her head rested on her chest. 

“Maureen.” Joanne pushed her away. “Were you flirting with poor Fiona here?” 

Fiona brightened instantly, happy to have someone automatically recognize her. But her smile dimmed when she realized Maureen  _ wasn’t  _ single. 

“Just a little, Pookie, come on-“ 

Joanne shook her head, staring disappointedly at Maureen. “No. Maureen, we’re going. You can’t just - keep  _ flirting  _ with everyone. Not when you’re my girlfriend.” 

“Pookie - “ Maureen started. 

“And don’t think I don’t know what you did with Mark.” 

Maureen paled. “It was one fling, it was just barely when we started dating - “ 

Joanne turned to Maureen, her grip slowly loosening on her hand. “Maureen,” she said. “I love you. Please...I don’t…I don’t think we can do this.” 

“Wait, Joanne - “ 

But it was too late. Joanne left, leaving Maureen alone, and newly single, at the bar. Desperate, she turned back to Fiona. 

But she was cleaning the countertop, head down, as if there’d never been any connection between her and Maureen at all.


End file.
